Wanderings of Lost Plots
by Aya Diefair
Summary: A collection of unrelated 1-shots I didn't want to be stand-alone's (i.e. pretty much everything I write). 2000-5000WC. Mixed pairings/characters/situations. Summaries/genres/ratings/pairings listed accordingly. Table of Contents Included! Thanks for reading.
1. Table of Contents

**Author's Note:** The following is a Table of Contents for the 1-shots 2,000-5,000 words to be posted here. I do not care if this isn't allowed, consider it a courtesy to help you find what you want to read in here, Reader. I will update it as things are posted or removed.

If some stories appear familiar to you in this collection, it is because that particular 1-shot is a part of a bigger project I am working on and has been modified enough to read as a stand-alone, but are then reconstructed to fit where it belongs within a Multi-Chapter or Series somewhere else.

Consider everything in here canon-divergent and AU, as that is what fanfiction is. This means that nearly everything written here is not canon compliant. I only really consider the books and the Fantastic Beasts series true canon. Pottermore and Cursed Child information is used occasionally but is considered apocrypha only and not officially canon. A lot of my personal headcanons are also used and applied regularly.

I try my best to have representation in my stories and portray them as appropriately and respectfully as I am capable of. This may include characters with autism, varying sexualities and romance preferences, ethnicities, people of color, and varying religions and cultures.

There will be stories portraying unhealthy, dangerous or hostile situations, relationships, and practices. I write these because Fanfiction is a form of therapy to me, and I process a lot of my own tragedies and experiences within my writing, albeit exaggerated. This does not mean I condone the behavior/actions within these stories, but I also have no intention of excusing them, either. I will tag everything with appropriate warnings, however, I will not tag for relationship or sexuality types. If that upsets you, then go elsewhere. Please use your own discretion when reading. You know your own limits, likes, dislikes, and triggers.

I will use the forward-slash (/) to indicate partnerships, and an ampersand (&) to indicate platonic or enemy-based relationships.

All word counts are from Google Docs and excludes the Author's Notes. Original written date is an estimation based on the creation of the Google document it was allegedly written in and, to the best of my knowledge, was that story's original written date.

— - Aya Diefair

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**Chapter 1: **Table of Contents

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**Chapter 2: **One Man's Pride is Three Women's Playground - Alicia Spinnet/Katie Bell/Angelina Johnson - **Rated T** \- Humor, Family

**Summary:** It was finally time for Alicia, Katie, and Angelina to fulfill their dreams and show their stuff at the more pretentious pro-Quidditch team's tryouts: Pride of Portree.

**Word Count:** 2,007

**Warning Tag: **Derogatory terms used against a disabled person.

**Written: **November 2019

* * *

**Chapter 3:** Abhorrence over Tolerance - Tobias Snape/Eileen Snape Née Prince & Severus Snape -** Rated T** \- Family/Angst

**Summary: **Tobias Snape never knew how to handle the revelation of magic when Severus showed its signs. Eileen never prepared him for it, and simply accepting it just wasn't something he could do.

**Word Count: **2,488

**Warning Tag:** Features Child, Domestic and Alcohol Abuse; Magical Violence.

**Originally Written: **May 2018

* * *

**Chapter 4: **A Recipe Made With Love - Ted Tonks/Andromeda Tonks Née Black, Nympharoda Tonks - **Rated K **\- Family

**Summary: **Simple never always means boring or unhappy. Simple can sometimes be the source of being happy.

**Word Count: **2,052

**Warning Tag: **Implied/Referenced Bullying

**Originally Written:** March 2018

* * *

**Chapter 5: **On My Own - Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley - **Rated T **\- Family

**Summary: **Hermione tried to offer a solution, a compromise, but she couldn't standby and tolerate him anymore. Not when all he could do was blame her for something out of her control.

**Word Count:** 2,203

**Warning:** Mentions Infertility, Miscarriages, Trauma, Family/Grief Counseling, and Spousal Conflict.

**Originally Written: **September 2018

* * *

**Chapter 6: **The Black Sea - Ginny Weasley, Tom Riddles Diary - **Rated T **\- Hurt/Comfort

**Summary: **Tom bided his time, falling dormant for several years waiting for his chance to strike. When he was awoken, he could not have asked for a better host to carry out his malicious plans. He just had to learn how to handle her was all.

**Word Count: **2,965

**Warning Tags: **References of Predatory Emotional Manipulation; Magical Violence; Possession

**Originally Written:** January 2019

* * *

**Chapter 7: **The Salem Reform - Draco Malfoy/Astoria Greengrass - **Rated T** \- Tragedy

**Summary: **Astoria was determined for their plans to abolish witch burnings to succeed by any mean necessary. Unfortunately, a mistake leaves her fate in her own husbands hands.

**Warning Tag: **Referenced Historical Massacres; On Page Character Death

**Word Count: **2,332

**Originally Written: **May 2018

* * *

**Chapter 8: **Sly Little Fox - Draco Malfoy/Astoria Greengrass, Hermione Granger - **Rated K **\- Family, General

**Summary: **Draco hates disappointing his son, and does whatever necessary to give him what he asks for.

**Warning Tag: **N/A

**Word Count: **2,430

**Originally Written: **November 2017

* * *

**Chapter 9: **To Soar with Clipped Wings - Draco Malfoy/Astoria Greengrass, Luna Lovegood - **Rated T **\- Family, Hurt/Comfort

**Summary: **Draco was a proper young man that was expected to plan his life out down to the minute and follow it. That is until he met Astoria and learned that the unexpected could be full of adventure—but it didn't come without heartache.

**Warning Tag: **References Chronic/Terminal Illness; Mourning; Character Death

**Word Count: **2,039

**Originally Written: **September 2020


	2. One Man's Pride Three Women's Playground

**Summary:** It was finally time for Alicia, Katie, and Angelina to fulfill their dreams and show their stuff at the more pretentious pro-Quidditch team's tryouts: Pride of Portree.

**Rated:** T

**Genre: **Humor, Family

**Warning Tag: **Derogatory terms used against a disabled person.

* * *

**One Man's Pride is Three Women's Playground**

It was early spring, which meant Quidditch season was looming in the cold, frosty air. Angelina, Katie, and Alicia were up early preparing for one of the most important days of their lives. The trio never gave up their passion for Quidditch after graduating from Hogwarts, their schedules just never lined up with the small window in the spring for professional tryouts until now. The War, of course, hadn't helped at all, and recovering from it took a lot of time, energy, and focus.

Despite Angelina's assurance to her partners that she would catch up to them once she was back in top shape, Katie and Alicia weren't having any of it. Instead, they stayed by Angelina's side while she recovered from having her leg amputated at mid-thigh after a giant knocked her clean off her broom and into a crumbling wall. Everyone was just happy she was alive.

Relearning how to walk with a freshly molded prosthetic leg was hard work, but Angelina never let it get the best of her. Once she mastered her balance and handling the new part of her, she immediately started to learn to fly again. Having most of her thigh was really what gave her the confidence to try, and Alicia and Katie were with her for every fall into the foam pit they practiced over.

Angelina felt that she was back to her prior level of skill and that she had taken to her prosthetic with pride. Now the three were ready to see if their patience, hard work, and talent would pay off.

Hand-in-hand, the trio strode into the official Pride of Portee stadium, ready to take the team by storm. The only thing standing in their way was changing into their gear and heading out to the field. The problem was they had no idea where the locker rooms were.

"Excuse me?" Alicia shouted, jogging ahead of the other two to catch up with someone wearing the vibrant purple uniform of Pride. "Where are your locker rooms?"

The man stopped and turned to her, raising a brow when he noticed Angelina and Katie walking toward them. "Pardon me?"

"The locker rooms, where we change?" Alicia prompted.

The man chuckled then, gesturing behind the trio. "Ah, the ladies rooms are back that way and to the right. Access to the stands are just to the left from there."

"Why would we want to know where the stands are?" Katie chimed in.

"Uh." He looked between the three, considering what was said. "You're not spectators?"

Angelina snorted at that while Katie chuckled. Alicia was the one that looked annoyed by the question.

"We were told this is where the annual tryouts were held," Alicia clarified.

"That's correct."

"So, the locker rooms are back that way?"

The guy laughed again, running a hand over his hair before scratching the back of his neck. "Oh, you're trying out. Well, you're a bit far north; the Harpies are located in Wales."

Angelina stole a look over to her partner, Alicia, who looked like she was ready to punch this guy in the face. Katie kept quiet, knowing where this was headed, so Angelina decided to take over the conversation. Their hot-headed girlfriend blowing a fuse before they even had a chance to take to the skies would not be a good thing, especially if this blond-haired, blue-eyed jock was a part of Pride's current team.

"What my girlfriend is saying is that we need to change into our gear in order to try out for Pride. Would you mind telling us where it is, please?"

He seemed to be hung up on something Angelina said before snapping back to the question. "I see. Well, they are down a level. You can take the ramp over there." He jerked a thumb to his left, "There's a direct route from it to the pitch. Good luck, though. Pride is pretty competitive and intense. I don't think we've had any females on the team in quite a while. Especially any like… well, like you lot."

He made a beeline in the opposite direction they were going. Alicia glared at his back and the gold star that embellished his number under the surname.

"What the heck was his problem? 'Our lot'? What does that even mean?" she hissed as Katie draped an arm around her.

"Don't worry about it, love. Let's just go prove that jerk wrong."

Unfortunately, things only got worse once they found their way out onto the still frosted pitch, dressed in their practice gear with brooms in hand.

"Wow, is it just me, or is it raining men?" Katie asked, taking in the competition.

"Gross," Alicia said, making a face. "There's definitely too much testosterone circulating around. Explains Mister Jerk earlier."

"Don't let it intimidate you two," Angelina said, grabbing a hand each and pulling her girlfriends toward her. "We have just as much reason to be here as they do."

She pressed her forehead against theirs, squeezing their hands. "We got this?"

Katie and Alicia nodded, which made Angelina smile and kiss the tips of their noses. "Let's go kick some male chauvinist ass."

The exchange caught the attention of a couple of the guys nearby. "Oi! The cheer squad doesn't audition until after Quidditch."

"Good thing we aren't part of that squad," Alicia snapped back.

The coach and captain emerged then, so the three women gave them their full undivided attention.

"I need everyone who is trying out for a chaser position here, and anyone trying for beater over here."

The masses split accordingly, and then the coach had the keepers separate from the seekers, leaving a handful of those who were willing to try for any position to get a slot. Once the numbers were counted and tallied, Angelina grabbed Katie and Alicia's hands as they listened to the lecture.

"We only have four openings on the main team—one beater and three chasers. We are also always looking for reserves, so anyone who makes the first cut will be considered for those slots as well. Ideally, there are two full teams set aside as reserves, but we don't always maintain it.

"We should have enough here to make six full teams, so get into teams so we can get you up in the air and see what you can do."

Angelina, Katie, and Alicia immediately broke off into a quiet area of the pitch, making sure their chaser numbers were properly pinned onto their backs and fronts before they worried about who else would be willing to play with them.

One guy clearly built to be a beater decided to take that time to shove past Angelina, throwing off her balance and causing her to fall. Alicia caught her arm half-way down but ended up toppling over Angelina's prosthetic in the process.

"Careful there, cripple."

Katie's eyes flashed while she helped her girlfriends up.

"You alright, Angelina? How is your leg?"

"It's fine. Hurt a tad, but nothing I can't handle."

It took everything she had to hold herself back, and even more so to keep Alicia from pounding the guy's face in.

"He's not worth it," Katie reasoned, "But if we want to show them all up, we've got to be proactive in forming our group. Let's get it done, pronto."

Once Angelina found her footing and checked her leg to make sure it didn't get dislodged, she scouted the keepers still mingling nearby and managed to talk one into joining. Katie tried to look for a seeker to no avail, and Alicia honed in on the burly guy that knocked Angelina over in the beaters group and got his attention.

"Hey, you!" she said, giving the guys arm a rough nudge. "Want to reconsider what you said to my girlfriend?"

He turned to her and smirked. "Girlfriend? You mean Gimpy over there? Who gave her a broom, anyway?"

Alicia gripped her fist in hand. "You mean _Johnson._ She could fly circles around you."

The guy laughed, and it was clear that Alicia wanted to slug him.

"Okay. I'd love to see that," he said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Fine then, your team against ours."

Katie, being the good-natured soft-spoken person that she was, managed to pull together a few players who weren't complete jerks. They _were, _however_,_ quite curious about Angelina and her leg, asking numerous questions about how she could fly with a fake body part essential for steering.

Angelina told them with a smile, "Just wait and see."

As expected, Katie, Angelina, and Alicia took their trio position by storm. The way they were able to work together so fluidly awed both the coaches and captain, and it also completely pissed off the bully beater who kept trying to knock them out every chance he could. Their speed was unmatched when it came to handling the quaffle, often making it difficult for even the coaches to see which of the three had it at any given time.

Once the vigorous obstacle courses and mock games were all said and done hours later, the trio landed near the coach, drenched in as much sweat as all the others. It was now or never.

The coach dismissed one person after another, and each time the three squeezed the other's hands a little tighter. The coach paused for a long minute before looking up at who remained.

"Congratulations, you all have made it past the first stage. I'll see you tomorrow bright and early for the second phase. Get some rest, and good luck."

Alicia couldn't help but let out a loud whoop and then gave Angelina and Katie a big hug. "We made it past the first phase! The rest should be gravy!"

"Did you notice my Number One Fan got booted?" Angelina said with a smug smile on her face, draping her arms over her girls as they headed for the lockers.

"Good, he was a jackass if I ever saw one."

They went and got changed, and Angelina was the first one out. As she waited, she sat on a bench nearby and was checking her ankle rivets when a guy approached her.

"That was some impressive flying, all things considered."

She looked up to meet a freshly showered, relatively handsome man with light brown skin and jet-black hair. His hazel eyes were what really caught her off guard, however, and his crooked smile was charming. She recognized him as one of the other prospective chasers.

"Thanks, I suppose. You fly well yourself."

"Would you like to go out for a coffee sometime? I'd love to pick your brain about some of your maneuvers." He flashed her that crooked grin again, and Angelina had to refrain from giggling at how silly it looked.

"Maybe. I'd have to take it up with my girlfriends to see if they'd like to come, too. They're really the brains in the whole operation."

That threw him off, and Angelina hid her smile when his dropped clean off his face.

"Girlfriends?"

"Yeah." She heard their voices as they turned the corner, Angelina got to her feet then, holding out her hand. "I'm Angelina."

His jaw went slack for a moment when Alicia and Katie appeared beside her before he accepted the handshake. "Uh, Edgar."

"Making friends with the competition, Ang?"

"He wants to pick our brains over coffee and strategies. Interested?"

The man didn't offer any reaction to their teasing, and three girls barely suppressed their giggles.

"I think you broke him," Katie said, kissing Angelina's cheek.

"That's alright, he'll live," Alicia added, smiling at Edgar. "I'm afraid we'll have to take a raincheck on that coffee. If you're interested after the team announcements, hit us up."

Edgar finally recovered from his initial shock and smirked back. "Sure thing. _Adios._"

Angelina laughed and gave a wave before leaving. "See ya."

One thing was certain: today was a complete and total success for the three girlfriends. If they played just as well tomorrow, the chaser slots were as good as theirs.

* * *

_Originally Written For:_

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

**Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition**

**Monthly Challenges for All**

**Word Count:** 2,007

**Originally Written: **November 2019


	3. Abhorrence Over Tolerance

**Summary: **Tobias Snape never knew how to handle the revelation of magic when Severus showed its signs. Eileen never prepared him for it, and simply accepting it just wasn't something he could do.

**Rated:** T

**Warning Tag:** Features child, domestic, and alcohol abuse; Magical Violence.

* * *

**Abhorrence Over Tolerance**

It was six years after they married when Tobias discovered Eileen wasn't an ordinary person she lead him to believe. What was she expecting to tell him what was wrong when their four-year-old son started having strange things occur around him? Things moved on their own, sparks were seen coming off his fingers, and the day he came home early from the factory to see Severus tinkering with a very peculiar-looking chemistry set were to name a few instances. Tobias was about ready to institutionalize the boy for all the crazy things happening until Eileen confessed to what she and their son were.

"You're a fuckin' _what_?" Tobias hollered, feeling utterly confused and outraged all at once. He pointed at Severus who was doodling on paper with crayons in the living room, conditioned to ignore the yelling by now. "And he's _cursed too?_"

"It isn't really a curse, you see," Eileen tried to explain to her now outraged husband. "There are more people like me—_us_ out there. We usually just stay out of mu—" she hesitated a moment while finding the right words. "—Ordinary people's populated areas."

"You just described it like it's a bleedn' death omen, but now yer makin' it sound like it's a damn _joke?_" he snarled, not finding the humor in such a twisted game she was playing.

He grumbled under his breath about being called ordinary. What was that supposed to even mean? Tobias shuffled to the kitchen to grab a beer; he certainly needed one after being told magic was real. He was half hoping the woman was jerking his leg but based on the serious look on her face and the weirdness his son was now doing on the floor with his drawings, Tobias didn't have much leverage to deny that she wasn't joking.

He never knew how to handle or process such bizarre information Eileen dropped on him that day. She described it as being a curse, but it wasn't viewed like that to everyone who wielded magic, just to her. She claimed to have never wanted the "magic gift," so she fled from that world and hid it from him all these years. To learn that actual magic—and not the sort that Tobias saw people perform on the streets for pocket change, who knows anymore—but actual magic found in fairytales truly existed and lived among them. It weirded him out and made him suspicious and insecure about his entire life. He remembered that witches were known for luring and tricking people into doing things from childhood stories, and the realization of being controlled by someone he thought he loved disgusted him to no end. Was he a victim of being lured into loving Eileen like the fairytales described witches doing?

Tobias couldn't talk about it to anyone, either. Who would believe him? They'd toss him in the crazy house and throw away the key if he tried. Being afraid of magic was humiliating, but he was not going to tolerate feeling intimidated by someone who was deceiving him this entire time. That was what magic did, right? Alter people's minds and bend their wills to do the witches bidding?

Of course, leaving Eileen wasn't ideal, they had to go and have a bloody child to muddy things up. All hell would break loose with Tobias' grandparents should he turn into the sort who'd walk out on his family. He should know first hand how that was like, but it wasn't because he couldn't invest in his family anymore like his parents—he simply didn't want to. Eileen was not the person who he thought she was, and he felt betrayed in knowing he was tricked by the woman into starting a family. It damaged him in ways he couldn't describe, but he wasn't going to let something such as magic get the best of him. It was not going to have him cower, it was not going to further harm his pride.

Instead of a divorce, because the wrath from his grandparents outweighed his personal distaste of the situation he was placed in, he resulted in coping with it by simply not caring topped with a thick coating of alcohol. It was the only way he could allow himself to reason with the magic-based episodes he witnessed as Severus grew more adept in using it. There were times when it scared him enough to backhand the kid for it or toss him into his room to get him out of his sight. Eileen would protest Tobias' crude reactions to their son's magic, but it only redirected the anger at her instead for her keeping him from it.

Now instead of coming home to his pitiful family after clocking out of the factory, he instead met some coworkers at the pub every evening. It helped him be able to relax and enjoy himself before facing his home life and the family he now loathed. Sure, Eileen claimed to have wanted to give up her crazy witchcraft nonsense when they first met, he was none the wiser about it back then and wished he still was, but what reason did he have to believe that she did stop the magic stuff? How could he trust her not using it on him?

He started to get home later and later, living off scraps and alcohol as money grew even tighter now for the sake of Severus' education and Tobias' alcohol addiction. There were several nights where Tobias couldn't even remember coming home at all, or waking up to see the fresh black eye on the witch's face that slept next to him, but he was just fine with not knowing, not remembering. It kept her scared, it kept the boy scared, and it kept him feeling like he was still in control. Let them be the ones who cower, let them dare to use their witchiness on him should they try. A raised hand kept them in check.

The three somehow tolerated each other just long enough for Severus to graduate the creepy school he and his mother always went on about. Eileen was proud of him and his aspirations to become some sort of alchemist or chemist, he never cared enough to pay attention to the magic talk. All Tobias remembered of that day was that Severus had come home and hastily packed the few belongings he had to his name. Obstructing his son's bedroom door, beer in hand, the berating commenced.

"Where you off to, boy?" Tobias half-curiously inquired, sipping at his life essence.

"Why do you care? It isn't here with you," Severus spat back. "Should be glad I'm not bothering to stay in this squalor anymore."

"What? This ain't good enough for yeh?" he taunted with a half-drunken laugh, sweeping his hand over the room. "Rather live on the streets with the rest of the vermin. _Fine. _You ungrateful little shit."

Tobias shoved his son down the stairs when Severus attempted to slip passed him. The young wizard tripped down the stairs and collided with the front door.

"You'll gravely regret that," Severus snarled.

Tobias stomped down the stairs like a horse, laughing. The air filled with the strong scent of last nights liquor radiating from his breath. "You threatening me now, boy! Let's see yeh back yer words."

He grabbed Severus' arm and pulled him off the door just to rip it open and shove him through it. When he didn't fight against Tobias' aggressive handling of him aside from a firm shrug to be released, Tobias just laughed again.

"Didn' think so. Worthless brat."

Eileen was hidden in the shadows, witnessing her son being kicked out the door hours after he had just returned home from school.

"I don't want to see yer sorry arse around here again!"

Eileen had tried to go after Severus, but Tobias slammed the door closed and rounded on her. "If you even think of allowing that good for nothin' freak back in my house, Eileen, so help me..."

She dared not to cross Tobias. Since she allegedly kept her promise on swearing she'd never use magic on him, it never helped his insecurity of it silently looming over him, knowing that she could easily overpower him if she really wanted to. She claimed to still love him despite all the abuse she endured from him and witnessed being inflicted on their child. Tobias always made sure to remind Eileen that it was her fault for his reckless actions. It was, to him anyway. Had this magic rubbish never surfaced, Tobias would be fine with his life and family. They would still struggle but not in this way. Feeding the habit occasionally left them starving for days, but it never stopped him from recycling the outcome when finances grew thin.

Eileen still stayed with him despite her better judgment, but they were hardly considered a couple anymore. He couldn't recall a time when he felt happy and love for the woman without feeling like it was all a clever little lie she spun. Tobias continued to make sure to hardly ever be home, and when he was, he was too drunk to fully recall what transpired between them most of the time. The yelling and fights were distinct blurred memories, but her drawing that wretched piece of wood on him one day was when he finally snapped.

After twenty-two years of being around that cursed witch, he had come home from work one day to her not being there at all. She never did come back, either. Tobias could care less on where she ran off to, he never bothered to look for her. Why should he? Like mother like son, forever running from their problems. Tobias simply grabbed a beer and watched the news that night knowing that he had won against the magic she dared try to use against him.

Four blissful years trickled by without any magical interruptions in Tobias' life. He sat in front of a poker table placing his bet as he grew accustomed to doing for years now. Body slightly swaying from the lack of control he lost long ago to being perpetually drunk enough that he now could appear sober. As he made the wager on the not so grand hand he held, Tobias took a long drink of cheap whiskey from the tumbler that lingered beside his hand. A dark figure had approached from behind as everyone laid out their hands. Tobias' three of a kind was bested by a full house.

A new game was being dealt, the men surrounding the table were oblivious to the cloaked person's presence that watched them gamble their paychecks away to the better players in the group. The man sneered in disgust as he watched his father lose for the third time in a row.

"Squandering away your earnings while your family starved. Habits never change, it seems. Pathetic."

A sharp, bitter tone resonated from beside Tobias, startling him into looking up into the black, emotionless gaze of his son. At first, he didn't recognize Severus since he'd not seen him since that fateful day he forcibly removed him from the house. But that voice, the resentful, angry, bitter tone Tobias heard from the boy's adolescence was unmistakable to not remember. He abruptly got to his feet, meeting the cold gaze of Severus with his own glare.

"Thought I told you I didn't want to see your sorry arse ever again, boy," Tobias snarled, sweeping his hand to collect the cheap amber liquid nearby.

Severus took a half step back at the unpredictable action but remained holding his ground. "Don't flatter yourself, I'm here to collect what's rightfully mine."

Tobias glanced around him, his coworkers stared back. Some were annoyed that their game was interrupted after dealing a new hand, others shrugged it off. Feeling embarrassed in front of them, he finished his drink and laid the freshly dealt hand face down on the table.

"I fold."

He then promptly stormed off toward the backdoor, the dark-clothed wizard silently following behind. As soon as the cold autumn air hit him did Severus draw his wand and jab it into his father's chest when Tobias whipped around to face him. He was not expecting it and raised his hands at the mercy of Severus' hand.

"Listen, you legless tosser," Severus growled, pressing the tip of his wand deeper into bony flesh. "Mother is dead, not like you give a damn. I am here for your signature to revoke your name from the deed to _her_ house."

Tobias spat on the ground at their feet, glaring back into the cold, dark eyes. "So the witch finally croaked, eh? Good riddance, I say!"

The sharpness in Severus' eyes pierced right into his father's. A silent stinging hex had Tobias stumble back from the shock. He placed a hand over the area that now burned from the magics residue.

"I told you you'd pay for your actions, how befitting to finally see you cower."

"Who says it was even hers to give you?" Tobias hissed out. "You have no right to take what's mine!"

"Watch me." With a flick of his wand, Severus had Tobias tossed back into a pile of rubbish bags.

Feeling a bottle nearby, Tobias grabbed it and threw it right for the wizard's face. It was easily deflected, but it only angered Severus more.

"I knew that you and your mother were nothing but storybook freaks!" Tobias snarled, pushing himself upright. "And here you are proving it by using your filthy curse on me rather than fight like a proper man."

Severus flicked his wand again, tossing Tobias into a large metal bin. Another slash of the air had a huge gash appear cross Tobias' face. The man was frightened now, struggling to stay conscious after the impact his head made against the metal. It was almost enough for Severus to crack a smirk at the sight before him.

"I much prefer hurting you with what you've feared from me my entire life." Kneeling down, he withdrew a folder with the papers and a pen and laid them on the filthy ground in front of Tobias who scrambled away from his son. "Sign it, or I'll make sure that will be the last insult you will ever spit out of your pathetic mouth."

If a stupid signature was all that his good-for-nothing son wanted from him to keep him out of his life, then so be it. Hesitantly, Tobias snatched the pen from the ground and shakenly signed across the line at the bottom. Severus grabbed the folder of papers and tucked it away. Without another word, Tobias watched as his son turned and vanished into thin air, leaving a firework-like crack behind that echoed through the alley. The drunk and barely conscious man was alone, rendered down to nothing but the filth of the dead-end alley.

* * *

_Originally Written For:_

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

**Word Count: **2,488

**Originally Written: **May 2018


	4. A Recipe Made With Love

**Title: **A Recipe Made with Love

**Summary: **Simple never always means boring or unhappy. Simple can sometimes be the source of being happy.

**Rated: **K

**Genre: **Family

**Warning Tag: **Implied/Referenced Bullying

* * *

**A Recipe Made with Love**

When Andromeda Black graduated from Hogwarts, she knew exactly what she was going to do with her life. Even if the choice she made would have her be completely wiped away from her family, she accepted the punishment. In exchange, she would be given the chance to start a new family and be free to love and be happy. She considered not even leaving the note she left before disappearing into the night, never to look back again. Though the air was cool, she was warmed with excitement as she met up with her fiancé, ready to start their new life together.

No one told her it was going to be easy going from riches to rags. Andromeda learned

to live without many things, but became adept to craft and create from scratch what she could to make up for it. Those skills became quite useful as they were perfected, and she began to find joy in the simplest of things, which was what she hoped to achieve. She and her husband were blissfully happy with their life, and their happiness only grew more when they had their little girl, Nymphadora, a few years after settling into their married lives.

Andromeda had established herself as a small time barrister for both the Muggle and Magical worlds. It wasn't anything special, but it gave her something to do and she found herself enjoying it while Ted had found his passion in children's medicine. He recently pitched an idea to find ways to make the less-than-pleasant tasting medicines more bearable to handle. His superiors found the theory promising enough to give him the green light, and so Ted started to experiment in making edible alternatives. It was something that he and Dora quickly bonded over; his talent in baking sweets and her eagerness to help made it a perfect way to spend a weekend. The plus side was having the house always smelling lovely.

It took a lot of patience and time for Dora to get the measurements down. She had always been on the more clumsy side ever since she could walk and occasionally found it hard to focus on the more mundane things when she needed to. Andromeda concluded it had to be related to her ever shapeshifting powers that threw her off at times. It was something she and Ted learned to manage and work with so Dora could feel comfortable with her unique Metamorphmagus self.

After all, her safety and comfort were their first priority, and baking took precision and caution to work with. When he started teaching her how to make candies, that was an entirely different level of skill and came with a whole new list of safety measures to teach, but it helped boost their little girl's confidence and offered her something to apply her attention to.

If it was one thing the three never did not have on hand, it was sweets and pastries.

When the day came that Nymphadora finally perfected her favourite cookie recipe at eight years old—always with a watchful eye—she was ecstatic to share them with the neighbors. Though they accepted the sweets from the cute pink-haired girl, Andromeda saw they held judgment in their stiff smiles and thank yous.

The Tonks family always appeared like an unusual bunch to the others who lived in the neighborhood. The three were always bustling about in the gardens growing their obscure plants or baking some wonderful—and sometimes strange—smelling baked goods coming from the small two bedroom home. The baking occasionally made the smoke from the chimney change into bizarre colors, but this was often dismissed by a trick of the light by the onlookers. Though they always did their best to conceal their magical workings, there were times when the magic simply couldn't be concealed effectively.

When her daughter got particularly creative with the cookies, it broke Andromeda's heart to have to tell her when to draw the line with them. Even though the multi-changing treat was impressive, they simply weren't practical to give away. So when she was invited to a party by the neighbor girl down the street a few days ago, Dora wanted to give her a very lovely present of colored cookies made with giggle water. The sentiment of the gift was cute, but not something that could be given without suspicion arising from it.

"Dora, I think the purple chips are beautiful with the cyan dough," Andromeda said, "but I think you should consider giving this batch to your father to use for the kids in the hospital and not as a gift to Sarah for her birthday."

"Why? These are her favorite colors, and people like to laugh. So I thought it'd be a good idea putting them together," Dora reasoned, frowning from her mother's rejection.

"Darling, I do appreciate the creative thought that you've put into the cookies, but the kids you're wanting to give them to are not like us." Andromeda hoped her explanation was gentle enough, but she hated it when her daughter's face fell.

"I know."

"Seeing people giggle and possibly hiccup after eating the colored sweets might make people wary. Perhaps you can make them again with normal water. I'd be happy to help you. How's that sound?" She smiled, proud to have come up with a quick solution. "Maybe we can make half a batch one color combination and the rest the other."

This perked up the young witch enough to agree, and the two got to work on another set of sweets.

With a freshly baked batch of colorful cookies just in time for the party, Andromeda lead the skipping Dora down the street by the hand.

It didn't take long for the duo to arrive. It was a reasonable size to host a party, and certainly bright enough with its coat of pale yellow paint coloring the main structure.

The faint sound of upbeat music and children's laughter reached Andromeda's ears. She looked down at her more than excited daughter, giving her a toothy grin; it was clear she was ready to go inside and have some fun. Andromeda wouldn't delay her of that any longer, so she guided her child towards the side entrance (after seeing the sign telling the partygoers to enter that way) and released her hand once the other children were in their sight.

She placed the treats on the gift table and soon ran off to play, leaving Andromeda to linger around the refreshment table with the other parents. Accepting a fizzy looking orange drink, the witch took a modest sip and covered her mouth as she unexpectedly burped from the carbonation. Perhaps Dora's giggle cookies would've been overlooked after all.

"I am happy to see you and Dora were able to make it, Andromeda," the host of the party said while approaching. "Sarah hasn't stopped talking about your daughter since she sent out the invites. I am so glad the two are able to be friends."

"Yes, I am as well. And thank you for the invite. It meant a lot to Dora to be invited," Andromeda replied before taking another curious sip of her beverage.

"So where is your husband at?" the woman inquired, clearly at a loss for conversation starters.

"Ted had to work today. It's been busy at the hospital lately," the witch replied, which had her given odd looks.

Registering that what she said had sounded odd, Andromeda quickly corrected it. "I mean to say in his department. He studies new medicines."

Unsure nods were given and she let out a breath. It was difficult to keep the details in order with the work that she and Ted did and what she had already told the neighbors about them.

Not much time passed before Dora sought out her mother with tears welling in her eyes. She demanded to go home and refused to explain to Andromeda what happened and why her hair was caked with mud. After excusing themselves from the party and returning home, Dora completely broke down.

"The-y called me a freak, mama," she said between heavy sobs. "They pushed me into the dirt a-and did this to my-y hair. Saying i-it needed to be a normal color."

"Oh, sweetheart." She pulled her little girl into a hug, uncaring of the drying mud getting on her as Dora cried into her shoulder.

Ted had just come home to witness the scene unfolding. Dropping his briefcase and coat on the floor at the door, he immediately came to the pair's side.

"What happened? What's wrong, my dears?" he did not hesitate to embrace his family.

"Dora had a nasty experience with the other children today," Andromeda explained as vaguely as possible to spare her daughter's feelings.

"Oh my poor darling." Ted pulled Dora into a single hug, taking no notice of her dirty hair either.

Once she was calm enough, Andromeda drew her a bath and made sure to help get her hair extra clean before dinner. After giving her husband a proper hello kiss, she explained everything to Ted as he settled himself into the evening routine. Once a distraught—but clean—Dora emerged and flopped into her seat at the table did Ted take the chance to properly comfort his daughter. Andromeda watched the two discreetly as she put the finishing touches on their dinner; chicken tikka masala.

"Dora, my dear," he leaned toward her as he spoke. "Your mother told me of the amazing new cookie recipe you created. She wouldn't give me any details, though. Would you enlighten me?"

Dora's expression perked up some at the mention of the giggle cookies, but she started talking about them apprehensively. Andromeda knew it was because of why she made them up in the first place, but Ted was always good at weaving around those tricky details. She served her family before taking her seat when Dora was finished explaining the recipe and Ted had the brightest smile on his face.

"That is brilliant, Dora!" he gave her a quick half-hug before preparing to tuck in. "I will definitely give one a try after supper. If you're willing, maybe you could whip up a few batches so you can bring them in with me to the hospital. They'd be gobbled up in seconds there!"

"You think so?" Dora asked between bites.

Andromeda watched the pair exchange ideas on expanding the quirky treats to take to the children in the hospital and she found herself smiling brightly at the sight. It had her reflect on her life and how she got to where she was now. Coming from what many would see as royalty to simplicity was an understatement, but it had been an easy choice to make.

Being from an old, rich family meant little when someone's values were undermined—or simply cast aside—in order to keep up with appearances and status. When she came to realize that what she used to call family only cared about a certain image and standards, she did not want any part of it. Not able to choose who to marry, who to love, or what to do with one's life was not how Andromeda wanted to live, so she changed it with great sacrifice.

The decision had been painful, she wouldn't deny that, but it hurt because she left her sisters that she loved and cared about the most. But after seeing Bellatrix slip down that dark and twisted path she craved to follow, Andromeda couldn't bear to watch. Narcissa adored the grooming she received in order to be the next perfect trophy wife to the next respectable suitor who came knocking. Despite these things, they were her sisters, and they once shared a bond that no one else knew in their younger years. Yet once their adult paths were set, it was easier for Andromeda to see that hers would never be the same.

Perhaps one day she would reunite with at least Narcissa. She would be the easiest of the two to approach, Andromeda thought at least. But for now, she tucked that short life of hers away in the deepest part of her heart and soul and smiled at the family before her.

She loved her little family, and she wouldn't trade them for the world.

* * *

_Originally written for:_

**Monthly Challenges for All**

**The Houses Competitions**

**Word count: ** 2,052

**Originally Written:** March 2018


	5. On My Own

**Summary: **Hermione tried to offer a solution, a compromise, but she couldn't standby and tolerate him anymore. Not when all he could do was blame her for something out of her control.

**Rated: ** T

**Genre: **Hurt/Comfort

**Warning:** Mentions of infertility, miscarriages, trauma, counseling, and spousal conflict.

* * *

**On My Own**

To light a candle is to cast a shadow.

\- Ursula K. Le Guin

**.oOo.**

_December 26th, 2005_

A particularly loud snore roused Hermione from her sleep. Awaking in darkness, the morning gloom temporarily dulled the ache in her head. Sitting up too quickly was what triggered the nausea. She sprinted to the connected bathroom to purge yesterday's over-indulgences while the spotty memories flashed back into her conscience. Running the tap, Hermione splashed cool water over her face and wiped the sick from her mouth before taking a large sip of water to wash it out.

Looking in the mirror, she realized she was not clothed at all, or in her hotel's bathroom. While piecing together where she was, the roaring snore in the room behind her came from none other than Ron Weasley.

'_Christmas dinner at the Weasley's,'_ the witch recalled. '_Too much spiced rum and eggnog… mixed with Ron's charm.'_

Lifting her left hand from the sink, a bare finger last night was once again adorned with the simple silver band with three small diamonds embedded on its face. Tears stung her eyes at the sight of it, quickly removing the jewelry as if it burned her flesh. The ring clattered loudly onto the counter. He got to her again, and she hated herself for it.

Sucking in a sob, Hermione finished cleaning herself up. Using the robe hanging on the back of the door, she quietly went to search the dresser for undergarments. Grabbing pillows from the bed, she made her way to the sitting room where she tossed them on the sofa and pulled the patchwork blanket off the back and over her before laying down.

Her head pounded behind her eyes; she'd forgotten the headache potion in the bathroom and groaned in annoyance.

Chasing the awful potion's taste down with a glass of water, she fluffed her pillow and laid back down. Staring at the ceiling, she listened to the _tick_ of the clock nearby and checked it out of curiosity. Knowing it would take a little while for the potion to kick in, Hermione decided to try and get a little more sleep before leaving. It would be a long while before Ron would wake, and she would make sure she would not be there when he did.

'_How could he? How could I?'_

Tossing and turning, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to force herself to go back to sleep to no avail. She instead thought about the previous night. No one seemed to notice her avoidance toward the redhead she was supposed to call husband; everyone was busy with their own conversations and being merry to care or notice.

For some reason the huge fight they had mere days before was pulled to the front of her mind, details clear as day inside her hurting head. Fresh tears welled as she dwelled on the recent past that deeply harmed their relationship and drew the last line for her.

**.oOo.**

_Evening of December 21st, 2005_

"You missed another appointment. How are we supposed to fix us if you can't even show up?" Hermione asked Ron harshly over dinner. Visibly upset for him missing yet another marriage council meeting earlier that day. "Do you care anymore?"

Ron huffed, finding the accusation a little hurtful. "Don't go there, Hermione. I already told you work ran late. I sent an owl about it ahead of time. How many times do you want to hear me say sorry?"

Silence. He did notify her, and it slipped her mind. Ron resumed eating, looking back to his newspaper. Hermione all but openly glared at him.

"Work cannot be used as an excuse anymore. That was one of your main complaints, remember?"

"I do," he retorted, "but when _I_ run late, at least I can still make it home at a reasonable hour."

"That's unfair," she chided.

"What is?"

"Using your argument against me as an excuse for your own."

"Yes, because you were never home! I was here no later than seven every time I stayed late! You never knew when to call it a day!" Ron snapped back, voice raised.

Pure raw anger glossed Hermione's face. "You knew what you signed up for when you proposed," she hissed. "I wanted a career."

A scoff cut her short. "_We_ both did, no objections arose, and we both got our dream jobs! You passed countless laws for non-human creatures' rights, helped rebuild the ministry, and so much more. I put away our enemies that still ran amok. We attended therapy together to lay our demons to rest, reveled in our successes together.

"But we left those careers, remember? I sooner than you, but that is irrelevant. We had a plan, Hermione."

Her jaw jutted out, eyes sharp. "So that's the problem? I caused the harm by waiting too long to quit my job?"

"No!" Ron exhaled the word heavily, running his hands through his thick hair. Swearing under his breath as he regretted ever dragging this stuff out.

"It's just… I never noticed how much you actually worked until I left the ministry to help George. I never see you. At least when I was an Auror we went to work together and grabbed lunch every day. "

"I fixed that per your request at counseling. I am home at half past five every day. We make dinner—" she gestured to the partially eaten meals in front of them. "—we eat, make small talk, wash up. You watch the telly, I read. Nothing has changed for the past three months now. No harm is done. What more do you want?"

"But it has," he pointed out.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "How so?"

"You bring your work home with you rather than just leaving it for another day." His tone hinted at defeat. Ron looked to the plate in front of him now, unable to take in her anger.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I needed something to fill the dead space."

"There wouldn't be any dead space if we tried interacting with each other once in a while," Ron snapped back, smacking a hand down on the table as he stood.

Hermione felt her chest tighten at the scathing comment, getting to her own feet. "So us falling apart is all my fault then? Hmm?"

Ron threw his arms up, whether in frustration or defeat she didn't know or care right now. He started down this path, he was not going to avoid it this time. Placing a hand over his eyes, he drug them over his forehead to his hairline. He stared at the floor for several seconds, finally meeting her eyes.

"Never, Hermione. I—"

"Clearly you are holding some deep-seated resentment against me whether you want to or not!" she spat, cutting him off.

"Hermione, please…"

"Blame my job all you want, but it apparently is not the problem here!" Her voice started to crack, tears pooling in her eyes, blurring her vision of the defeated redhead that stood in front of her.

"I know you want a family! Trust me, I know! I do too," she continued between heaving breaths and shaking from the overwhelming emotions. "You don't think I feel that pressure as well? _I do_. Your sister and Harry have a child already and already is expecting a second. Your brothers are all having children. The unspoken questions that echo in the overbearing comfort from your parents every time we see them…

"Can you not see I am trying to help us? I've been trying to help us get through this so we can heal and move on like we have with the trauma of war!"

"We should be helping each other..." Ron half whispered.

Tears flowed freely now, her train of thought faltered as she jumped topics. Ron reached out to embrace her, to offer some kind of apology and comfort, but she pushed him away. Hermione was not finished, and everything just came bursting from her.

"I quit the ministry and went to medical school to help us. To help me find answers, treatment, anything! Yet here you stand placing blame on it like it does not matter! That it's not important. Just stop being in denial and say what you want to say already!"

Shouting so much had her throat feel raw, heart racing, her chest tight with anger and sadness. Her legs felt weak and on the verge of giving out, but she refused to let herself crumble now. She was going to make him say what he has always wanted to say, she needed to hear it. Somehow, someway, she believed it would help.

"Say it!"

"No…"

"Say you resent me for my infertility! For the miscarriages! Say it!" Hermione demanded, voice fading as she said each word.

Looking from the floor to Hermione multiple times, Ron settled on her tear-stained face. He appeared to have been punched in the stomach, eyes glassy like hers. A hard swallow was followed by a shaky response.

"I won't, because it is not true."

Everything became a blur of rage. Ripping the ring from her finger and throwing it hard at Ron. It pelted him in the chest where it then clattered on the floor at his feet. "You're a bloody liar!"

An overnight bag was hastily and sloppily magicked to be packed and at her side in mere seconds, the door slammed hard behind her.

**.oOo.**

_December 26th, 2005_

Staying in a hotel the past week was not ideal—or cheap in muggle or wizard currency during the holiday—but going anywhere else would raise questions she did not want to answer. As far as anyone was concerned, the couple were doing alright; attending regular counseling on how to cope with such a devastating loss. Marriage counseling was added when other things started coming up in the wake of their grieving.

The impact of the loss drove Hermione to change her career, dropping law entirely while she attended medical school instead. Juggling both for a short time further damaged her relationship with Ron, and that wasn't something the two could afford. It was selfish of her, so she took a full load and studied every basic course available to her; from general mediwitch practices to psychology. The latter became quite useful to help understand her and Ron's feelings, she proceeded to delve further into the field while also being officially certified to become a mediwitch if she so desired.

Ron was furious with her in the beginning when she revealed she was attending school again. More damage was done with both of their honesty back then, but it wasn't anything a mind healer—counselor—couldn't handle or mend. Finding common ground, he accepted her choice of field, but heavy conditions were laid for the sake of their relationship.

Covering her mouth to stifle a sob, mind swimming with fresh thoughts and more heavy emotions. If anyone asked her now if she still loved him she would reply without doubt or delay that she still loved the idiot dearly, and she knew he still loved her. The regret and sadness she saw on the redheads face that night showed her that when she crossed that line, but it was clear that they needed help from an outside source.

"God help me, I haven't forgiven him yet," Hermione whispered into the darkness.

Alone, they merely ripped each other apart with their raw emotional feelings; simply using the wrong words to further fuel their fights. She should not have gone that far, but he should not have been teasing the line, either. She is not sure if forgiveness could be given for the mistake again.

An hour ticked by and sleep evaded Hermione. Sighing in defeat, she got up and quietly returned to the only bathroom in the flat to shower away her thoughts and the evening before while debating on what she should do. She left out of anger last time, and the week dragged on without the couple speaking to each other until last night, but Hermione also knew that she couldn't just sweep it all under the rug. Addressing the issue with Ron the day after a holiday felt wrong, especially after she willingly came back to their flat with him.

She didn't want to leave again, instead she wanted to stay and try and mend things the way they had tried to fix their fights before. But if Hermione knew what was best for her, breaking that vicious cycle was what she would have to do. Throwing on some comfortable and warm clothes—a knitted jumper from Molly and grey sweatpants—she didn't bother to tame her frizzing, unruly hair. The mist outside would ruin it again, anyway. Instead, she pulled on some trainers and quietly—reluctantly—grabbed a fresh overnight bag from the bedroom.

Hermione stalled a moment, staring at the sleeping form in front of her as the darkness was slowly swallowed by daybreak. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she swallowed hard before leaving the room and the flat without a sound or evidence she was even there—except for the ring on the bathroom counter.

'_I can't make it through this without you, but I feel like I'm losing you, too…'_

* * *

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

**Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition**

**Monthly Challenges for All**

**Word Count:** 2,203

**Originally Written: **September 2018


	6. The Black Sea

**Summary: **Tom bided his time, falling dormant for several years waiting for his chance to strike. When he was awoken, he could not have asked for a better host to carry out his malicious plans. He just had to learn how to handle her was all.

**Rated: **T

**Genre: **Hurt/Comfort

**Warning Tags: **References of Predatory Emotional Manipulation; Magical Violence; Possession

* * *

**The Black Sea**

**.oOo.**

Maybe that's part of the nightmare, having just enough freedom thrown at you to tempt you, knowing it's an illusion.

— Grace & Fury; Tracy Banghart

**.oOo.**

School was something Ginny Weasley was unusually nervous about attending, not because of the school itself, but because of her peers. She wasn't used to much female interaction; it showed, and they noticed. It was no secret that she was a Weasley, and she knew that her brothers have all endured varying levels of bullying because of their name alone, so she was ready for it. Or at least she thought she was.

She was prepared for the taunts and insults at her family's poverty and name, but she wasn't anticipating the girls to mock her appearance, tease her about the few friends she did have, and everything in between. Girls were meaner than boys; they used anything and everything to tear down their victims.

It was a reason why she distanced herself from them.

_I hate them._

Ginny wrote aggressively in her new diary one night.

_I hate them, too, for hurting you like this, _Tom wrote back. _But distancing yourself from the problem is not going to give you the outcome you wish, Ginny. It only delays it._

The words vanished, and Ginny felt like he had more to write but was hesitant.

_If only I could be with you when you were in these situations. At least then you wouldn't be alone, and I could be of more help to you and change the situation._

She tilted her head at the statement, wondering what he meant.

_I carry you with me everywhere. You are always with me, _she reminded him.

_I know._

_Then what do you mean?_

The words melted away and Ginny could almost feel Tom struggling to respond through the book cradled in her hand. This sensation of seeming to feel his emotions had grown gradually in the weeks since she started writing to him. It was strange, but she didn't think much of it until she started confiding to him about the ruthless bullying. The surge of anger that came through his words overwhelmed her in an unusual way, and she couldn't find a way to ask or describe the circumstance to him, so she didn't. Tom wasn't angry at her, though, he was angry for her. It made her feel appreciated for a change that someone not related to her cared about her wellbeing.

_Ginny…_

The way he wrote her name made her heart flutter. It was written slowly and she watched every stroke of ink that formed her name with a smile on her lips.

_I wish you could see how powerful you are like I can. If we could remove the obstacles holding you back, your problems with those other students would no longer be an issue._

Tom liked to tell her about power and magic. That respect was earned by skill and confidence, and not necessarily by wealth or a family name. Though they certainly helped, people knew when to leave the powerful ones alone. Sometimes he would say things that twinged a little fear in her, but the intrigue of his eloquent words quickly drowned it out. It would be nice to show the bullies that she wasn't to be messed with, but her nobility kept her from handling them the way it needed to be done, according to Tom.

_I could help you with all of it if I weren't confined within this book, _Tom finally stated.

Ginny moved her hands away from the leather cover, feeling a strange sensation seep from it. She had already dug in the school public records of the Hogwarts alumni looking for remnants of a Tom Riddle, hoping to find something about him there, but she'd only found his name with no face to go with it.

_Are you saying that I… that we could… see each other somehow?_

This thought delighted but frightened her. The warning signs her mind sent her about sentient objects with no visible heart or brain were long since ignored. The circumstances of what she was getting into wasn't something she considered the second she learned about Tom, and it wasn't one she was going to heed now.

She wasn't the only one who wanted more.

_I am but only a shadow of who I was, but I am still more than just a book, _Tom confirmed. _If I told you that I know a way to show you what I looked like, would you believe me?_

The quill tip hovered over the page, hesitant to confess that she may have developed sort of a crush on him without even knowing what he looked like—what he sounded like. She dismissed the thought, but tried not to giggle at the new idea that formed.

_Are you going to draw yourself for me?_

_No._ She could almost hear the laugh behind the word. _I can actually show you._

_Place your hand on the page and close your eyes._

The words lingered on the top of the page for a long time. Ginny stalled, her hand hovered over the words before she decided to respond.

_Will it hurt you? Or… or me?_

She pulled her hand away when Tom replied.

_No. Trust me, Ginny. I would never hurt you. I… I have been wishing to see what you look like since we first met. The loneliness you chase away... _He paused a moment to quickly swipe all the words away. _If you touch the pages, I can make it so we will be able to see each other. It is the only way I know how to show you that I'm really here, and that I can help you more than you realize._

She always liked how he wrote her name, how the faint whisper behind it sounded when it appeared on the pages. She laid the quill down and took a deep, shaky breath. Of course she trusted him, she confided in him things not even her own mother knew, and he didn't mock her for it. If he knew how to close the distance between them, why should she deny it?

She wanted more.

Her fingertips brushed the page below the words and she felt a gentle pull on her magic. Closing her eyes, Ginny pressed her palm onto the page.

Her mind plunged into an inky pool of darkness. She felt her magic being pulled by the book's own magical tendrils, intertwining them together.

A calm male voice spoke to her then. "_Open your eyes."_

Ginny obeyed, and the darkness was replaced with a pale grey-green background of what looked like the corridor in the Hogwarts dungeon. She saw a boy standing in front of her. He was much older than her, but the soft smile on his face told her that he didn't seem to mind this. Tom reached for a lock of her hair, and she felt her cheeks flush at the gesture.

"_You're as beautiful as I imagined and more."_

She dropped her gaze and bit her lip at the compliment.

"_There is no need to be shy, Ginny."_

"_You're just… a lot older than I thought you were,"_ she confessed. She should've known based on how mature he sounded on parchment.

Tom tilted his head when she had the courage to meet his eyes again. "_Should that matter?"_

"_I—I don't know." _Ginny swallowed hard, unable to look away from his beautiful face a second time. "_This is what you really look like? You're so…"_

She blushed again, and if he was able to notice, he didn't comment on it. Her head started to feel a little fuzzy and she assumed it was just the sudden rush of emotions. He was so handsome, it put her crush on Harry to shame. It felt a little wrong since he was much older than her, but as he said, did it matter? He was just a book, it was harmless to crush on someone who wasn't really real, right?

"_I am glad that I am able to finally see you, Ginny,"_ Tom said, continuing to twirl the stand of her hair around his finger. "_Knowing what you look like will really help keep the loneliness away. Being able to see the girl that possesses such untapped potential and magical skill is a blessing in and of itself."_

Ginny didn't know what to say to that, but as he closed the small distance between them, a foggy feeling started clouding her mind. Whatever connection he made with her, it was quickly becoming overwhelming. She could feel something gently pull on her magical core a little at a time. It reached further out from there, her mental state felt a darkness carefully wrap around her mind, heart, and soul.

"_I can finally offer you the tools to aid you in breaking your barriers, Ginny…"_

His voice was like silk, and she couldn't help but smile at the gentle brush of his hand on her cheek. It kept the cold chill that warned her of danger at bay, but the weariness grew stronger from it.

"_Tom… I don't feel..."_

The next thing Ginny knew was that she was jostled awake by sheer fear only to find herself back in the physical world. She blinked back the ebbing darkness as she registered where she was. Her head was killing her. The diary lay closed beside her on the bed. She felt it when she moved her hand and her fingers brushed against its leather before resting on her forehead. Dark finger-like tendrils gripped her mind from the contact and it made her head hurt even more.

Every signal her body could send her screamed there was danger. The hair on the back of her neck rose from it, but Ginny wasn't sure what she should be scared of. She looked at the diary and almost flinched at the sight of it, but her need to know what happened overrode the fear. She didn't want to weigh the circumstances with what just happened to something Tom did, but she had to.

Ginny flipped it open to the middle of the book and re-inked the quill.

_Tom? What happened? I don't feel so well and… I think I blacked out… Was it… Was it because you touched me?_

Her sloppy writing slowly melted away. Ginny knew by now that it meant he was carefully considering her words before responding.

_Are you hurt?_

She swallowed hard, feeling her hand shake some as she wrote. _My head hurts, but I am fine. Tired, maybe, and hungry. But what happened?_

This time it took him a little longer to respond, and the cold that set in around Ginny had her start to shiver uncontrollably. If she had to describe it, it felt like the very life had been pulled from her being. Was Tom the cause of this terrible feeling she now felt? She really hoped not.

_I had to fuse some of your magic with mine to make the connection work, but you are strong Ginny, and I knew you could handle it, and you did. But there were a lot of emotions you suddenly experienced, and it must have severed it. I hope you are not upset._

That explained it, and the shiver down her back tried to tell her that it was wrong, that she needed to distance herself from the diary, that it was dangerous, but she didn't care. She needed him.

_I'll be more careful next time,_ she wrote. _It was really nice to see you, Tom._

_Next time? _he replied slowly, _You want to see me again?_

_Of course. You're my only real friend here, why wouldn't I?_

* * *

Ginny felt strange the following morning, but chalked it up to getting to sleep late. All she dreamed about was Tom. Not wanting to be late for her next class, she quickly closed the distance with a brisk pace down to the dungeons.

"There's the Weaslette." Pansy sneered as Ginny turned the corner.

She gritted her teeth and clenched her fist over the strap of her school bag as she passed the older students leaving the potions classroom. Ginny tried to ignore the other witch as best as she could, but she was one of the crueler ones. She was too caught up in her mind to hear the whispered spell come her way.

The spell connected, and Ginny found herself falling to the floor from the hex. Her face hit the hard stone beneath her, and she saw red. Not because of the blood that now dripped from her nose, or the color of the school book that fell out of her bag, but because she was furious. Those strange ink-like tendrils gripped her consciousness in that moment, she could still see, hear, and speak, but it was like she lost all control of herself.

The diary slid across the floor right toward Pansy, and before she could bend down to grab it, Ginny had her wand expertly trained on her in a heartbeat.

"I _dare_ you to touch it, wench," she growled, eyes flashing. The blood dripping into the crease of her lip made her more menacing.

Pansy's own glare narrowed, and her posse slowly shuffled away from her to avoid being hit by rogue spells and to not miss their next class. They clearly weren't interested in terrorizing so early in the day.

"Since when did you get confrontational?"

Ginny's hand gripped the yew wand tighter, the spark at her fingertips eager to be unleashed. "Since now."

The spells that filtered through her mind were unfamiliar, and she wondered how she suddenly knew so many hexes and curses. '_Tom? I–Is that you?'_

'_I told you I could be here with you at all times,' _Tom reminded, '_Allow me to handle this, Ginny.'_

Pansy's smirk only grew, taunting Ginny as her manicured nails brushed against the black leather. "Is this your lil' diary?" she said in a mockingly squeaky tone. "How cute that you carry it with you. I remember when I was seven, too. I wonder what secrets you have in it."

Ginny tried to fight Tom for control on her wand arm before he moved it and a silent hex she did not know surged from her wand. The yellow orb hit Pansy's hand. With a yelp, she recoiled from the dairy, cradling her limp arm against her chest.

"How _dare _you!"

"Don't tempt me to do it again," Ginny snarled, her eyes piercing the other girl with silent warning.

'_Please don't, Tom. This isn't right,' _Ginny pleaded.

She sensed that he wanted more.

'_It won't harm her to know her place, Ginny,'_ Tom reasoned, but released his control on Ginny's magic. '_I only encourage you to defend yourself.'_

The feeling he left behind was a little exhilarating, seeing Pansy squirm under her glare. Ginny closed the distance on the other girl. Wand still trained on her, she kneeled to pick up the diary. A smug smile formed on her lips when Pansy backed away. Without a word, Ginny wiped the drying blood off her face with a sleeve before turning around to proceed to the potions classroom. This time when Pansy attempted to trip her for a second time, Ginny was ready.

'_Do it. Show her you are not to be trifled with.'_

A spell settled in her mind, it left her lips with a flourish of her wand arm, and Ginny laughed while she ran from the corridor that quickly filled with bats. She did it all by herself, uncaring of the potential circumstances of her actions, and it felt great.

Class drawled on, Ginny could feel the diary pressed against her side in her school bag seep with delight. She could hear the whisper stronger than ever in her ear as if Tom was sitting right beside her. It made her shudder in that cold chill of danger as she listened to him guide her through the lesson before Professor Snape sent her to the hospital wing to fix her nose.

'_Walked into a door?' _Tom chuckled at her excuse.

'_I don't want to get in trouble!' _Ginny scolded.

Tom's presence made her very hungry when it was time for lunch, and she ate more than she ever had before while absently listening to her brothers and their friends talk about the incident with Pansy. Though no one seemed to know who exactly attacked the horrible witch, her twin brothers caught her attention and gave her a thumbs up and knowing winks. It made her stomach churn with guilt and pride all at once.

'_Don't be ashamed, Ginny,' _Tom assured her, and she flinched at his silky voice.

He made her weary when the day was finally over and she drug herself up to her dorm room. The diary lay on her bed as she finished her evening routine before she crawled over to it and flipped it open.

_How did you do that? _she wrote, fighting sleep in order to write to Tom.

_I thought you'd be happy, Ginny. I only wished to help you._

He knew how to sway her emotions. Even if it made her feel strange and not herself by the end of the day, she did like having him embedded in her conscience.

_I'm not mad, just tired. Today has been a strange day. _She twirled her quill a little in thought. _I like the sound of your voice. Could I … could I see you again?_

Tom swiped the words away quickly. Ginny could sense a smirk behind his words, she misinterpreted it into thinking he wanted to see her again, too.

_I would like that as well, Ginny. But you need your rest._

He wanted more.

* * *

_Originally Written For:_

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

**Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition**

**Monthly Challenges for All**

**Word Count: **2,965

**Originally Written:** January 2019


	7. The Salem Reform

**Summary: **Astoria was determined for their plans to abolish witch burnings to succeed by any mean necessary. Unfortunately, a mistake leaves her fate in her own husbands hands.

**Rated: **T

**Genre: **Tragedy

**Warning Tag: **Referenced Historical Massacres; On Page Character Death

* * *

**The Salem Reform**

'_This wasn't supposed to happen.'_

Astoria Malfoy repeated this wordlessly while curled up in herself on the cellar's dirt-covered ground she was thrown. The five other women around her were also accused of witchcraft, a feat Astoria strived to abolish but was instead condemned. They all waited for their fates to be judged by the people of the town. She wept softly in her designated corner, but not from fear of the imminent sentencing she will no doubt face, it was out of sheer anger.

Ever since the town known as Salem rapidly developed on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, its magical population raised suspicion among the non-magic folk not far down the road. It didn't take long for them to declare that young women, and even some men, were practicing "the devil's work". Disgusting trials were held to confirm or dismiss these claims, and things had quickly spiraled out of control for the magic users ever since. The Malfoys decided to go undercover and infiltrate the Salem government where the manipulation to become the town's judge was successful. Their goal to spare their own from such a terrible fate had worked, but it just wasn't enough to completely stop the trials from continuing once the richer wixens shifted blame to the muggles to protect themselves.

Draco's campaign to become the new governor was not going in his favor. His reputation as a judge was quite mixed based on his careful practice in convicting the accused. Some found his verdicts less than desirable. Since the fairness he exercised in the courtroom held him back from the new position longer than desired, the Malfoys plotted to discreetly get rid of the current governor, Cornelius Fudge, in order to give the public little choice on who to nominate to take his place. It was the only way to successfully abolish the practice entirely and to quietly persuade the muggles there was nothing to fear.

A clever poison Astoria had developed was supposed to make the man's health gradually decline and eventually pass away from complications, a common mimicry to muggle illnesses it would be declared to be. But something went wrong and it instead killed him instantly during a private dinner attended by the Malfoys, Cornelius, and Theodore to discuss potential reforms to trial procedures. This raised great suspicion among the servants. Feeling backed in the corner with a murder being pinned on him, Draco had turned on Astoria when three maids approached him accusing Astoria of witchcraft. They claimed to have witnessed it firsthand in the storage room moments ago. He had no choice to believe them, Astoria made a grave mistake, and too many peasants had seen, so their accusations were listened to accordingly. Draco had no way to protect her.

The early morning trial came quickly despite Astoria's lack of sleep throughout the night. She knew that Draco was going to send her to the stake in order to seal his own agenda. Astoria was bitter with resentment at the lack of protection from her own husband, he did have a choice, but something told her that it didn't matter. The six witches were soon shuffled into the makeshift courtroom in order for the scrutinizing to begin.

"We are here to evaluate and dictate the claims of witchcraft upon these six women for the next week," Draco began to the court, allowing grey eyes to sweep the small space before him. "As we all know how my process works, it will take time for me to determine if the information and evidence provided to me merits an execution sentencing. Without further delay, please present the first case."

The first woman was plucked from the crowd by Theodore, Draco's good friend and prosecutor who aided in planting or removing evidence as needed in favor of a ruling. Tear stains streaked down her dirt-covered face as she was lead to the stand. Astoria and the other four were returned to the cells, and the days slowly drug on. Another woman was pulled from the cell the following day and never seen again. The cycle continued throughout the week.

Draco thought that being as thorough as he could with each case gave the victims a subtle mercy. Drawing out their fates until he could confidently declare their guilt or innocence would give them time with little public backlash. Having the simple minded see reason was easy when everything was explained within their level of understanding. Many of the Hogsmeade residents were spared under his rule, which was the sole purpose for going undercover to the non-magic town in the first place. But occasionally, someone had to be found guilty to keep them satisfied and to secure his position. These victims were oftentimes residents of Salem.

If Draco became governor, he could heavily influence and write the city laws, virtually allowing him to thwart all accusations of witchcraft entirely. But where was the line drawn on what he would do to get there?

It was the eve of Astoria's trial. Naturally, Draco would push hers to be the very last, but she found the gesture warped. Why should he offer such a subtle sign of mercy to her when he was the one that had put her there in the first place?

She was alone in the cell now. A sympathetic Theodore had told her the others were declared innocent and released. Astoria would be the public's scapegoat this time, and the declaration killed her just a little bit more.

The witch could feel his magical signature behind her, but she didn't bother to turn and look at the man she had once loved.

"My lo—"

"Spare me your poisonous words, Draco! This is _not _how you treat someone you _claim to love,_" Astoria spat back, barely looking over her shoulder at Draco. "How could you?"

He raised his head slightly at her scathing words, giving him a more superior stature as he spoke.

"This is your doing," he declared, giving him the reaction he wished—her piercing hazel eyes to fully address him. "Three witnesses, Astoria. What was I supposed to do?"

"You're supposed to off them and quietly tuck away the evidence, which is the very thing I'd have done for you!" she retorted.

"And have four casualties on our hands, in our own home, one of them being the bloody governor?!" Draco hissed back, eyes glinting. "We were already under heavy suspicion from this alone. Had you not given him a tainted potion—"

"Here you pin the _accident_ on me? Why is it not yours?" she threw back, voiced raised. "You are just as capable of making an error as I am!"

"My measurements are always precise."

"And so are my brews!" Astoria shrieked. "You cannot even admit to me your own mistake that should have never even happened, and instead you'd rather blame me because it is _easier_ and salvages your pride."

Draco let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please understand, if I were in here, our entire reputation and cause would be ruined, Astoria. I have no choice. You have too many witnesses and evidence against you to bar me from formulating reasons on swaying the trial—"

"You have condemned me to a fate worse than death, and now you come here and tell me you are not going to even try to save me?" Astoria bellowed.

"Fairness governs life and death. It is how I practice, and will continue to do with you. I'm truly sorry."

"You disgust me, dear husband," she snarled, seeing her sharp glare pierce his demeanor. "If you are truly sorry, you will refrain from slipping Theodore my wand and the potion as evidence. But you will not, because you crave power, and this will seal _your_ agenda. When was I lost in this formula? When was I replaced?"

Silence was given. She knew he had answers burning in his throat, he just refused to admit that the treachery she spoke of was true. "I hope you and Theodore are happy in finally being capable of making the difference _you and I_ set out to achieve together."

Astoria could see his hurt, but it didn't soften her fury with him. A deep trust had been broken, and there was no way it could ever be mended even if he broke her from this cell at this very moment and they fled into the night. He was not the same man she loved. Not anymore.

"Trust me when I say I wish things could be different, but—"

"But nothing!" Astoria cut in. "I truly hope you understand the weight of this choice, for I will now burn because of them. Your success as governor will be stained with my blood while you serve our community. Pray they won't find out the cost."

Her sobbing was barely audible, but Draco knew it was not sadness she was expressing. She turned her back on him and huddled herself in the back corner.

"Astoria…" he swallowed a lump in his throat, producing a small vial of an orange substance to offer her. "Please at least take this to have you fade from consciences during..."

"Spare me your mercy, Draco," she said with a shaken breath. "I will suffer this fate you instilled upon me properly, and so shall you."

Astoria did not witness his departure, but she felt his magic no longer present aside from the small vial he left behind. She grabbed it and threw it at the furthest wall and watched its constants splatter on impact.

**.oOo.**

"Astoria Malfoy, you have been found guilty of the crimes brought against you of practicing witchcraft leading to the murder of governor Cornelius Fudge of Salem. You are hereby sentenced to death by burning," Theodore recited from the written parchment given from the judge. "Is there anything you wish to say before you succumb to your fate?"

Astoria was now tightly bound to a thick post in the center of town, all of Salem circled around her to witness her death at sundown. Some were already throwing stones at her, striking her legs as they jeered and shouted at the sight of a guilty magic user. The oil soaked pile of wood and straw hid the wooden platform Astoria stood upon. The smell of the dense substance assaulted her senses and burned her throat. She no longer felt the fresh wounds and bruises from the stones as she glared out at her prosecutors.

"Hear me, people of Salem! This fight you claim in order to cleanse the evil from us is for naught! The fear you have of the women you condemn is unfounded.

"These medicines you use that _we create_ soothe and heal your sick and injured. The food you eat is prepared from _our skills_ on how to make it. The clothes you wear are woven and mended by _our hands_." Astoria looked out over the crowd, making sure to lock gazes with a pair of grey eyes nearby.

"The children we bear that carry your name are then nurtured and reared _by us_!"

She watched as Draco's expression faltered at this statement. It was a subtle confession, but it was clear that he understood what she intended. He masked his regret just as quickly as it came, but she saw it. A spiteful smile crept across her lips. Revenge tasted bittersweet.

"You all only see the end results, but never look to see where it begins. Witnessing these skills in their raw practice only scares you because you fear us women being capable of outshining men. They only ever see us as being inferior to them, and so when they glimpse the skill of our work, they fear it rather than praise it. We should not have to defend our methods of attending to daily chores unless you provide reason behind yours as well!

"Tilling the land and sowing the fields is never called witchcraft when it produces crops! Carving the wood and shaping stone to construct shelters is never called witchcraft! Why should men's work not be seen as such since what they do is what we do? We all _create, _we all _better _lives! As does their work!

"We all should be regarded as equals, and not be shamed and condemned in the name of fear and the unknown. Learn from your wife, mother, daughter, sister, aunt, cousin the same way that they, too, learn, and this fear will be lifted! Only then will you see how wrong your actions are."

The crowd grew eerily quiet from her words. Stones dropped at their feet, women sobbed in relief, men muttered among themselves. Astoria smiled despite herself as she skimmed over her audience, she made sure to rest her eyes on her husband once more. Draco looked away seconds later to address Theodore to proceed.

Theodore lit the torch he held in hand, looking up at Astoria to regard her one last time. "May God have mercy on your soul."

Her hazel eyes remained locked in on Draco as the flame ignited the fuel at her feet. The sick revenge now left a bitter taste on her tongue, but he had to realize his mistake outweighed his ambitions. It appeared to work as his mask slowly faded away. The smoke grew thick around her, it burned her eyes and throat as the air grew ashy and hot. Her dress caught fire quickly and slowly licked up her body, searing and blistering her flesh. Restrained cries were no longer contained as she was soon swallowed in flames.

Draco could not look away, even when Astoria's agonizing screams shattered his very being. He watched as the smoke slowly suffocated her and the heat evaporated all signs of the tears that streamed down her face. He blinked away several tears himself before finally tearing his gaze from Astoria to Theodore, the man who aided in this cruel death.

Someone had to pay for his grave mistake...

* * *

_Originally Written For:_

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

**Monthly Challenges for All**

**Word Count: **2,332

**Originally Written:**


	8. Sly Little Fox

**Summary: **Draco hates disappointing his son, and does whatever necessary to give him what he asks for.

**Rated: **K

**Genre: **Family, General

**Warning Tag: **N/A

* * *

**Sly Little Fox**

_22nd of December, 2014_

It was a few days before Christmas. Draco Malfoy skimmed through the mail that never ended until he found a letter that caught his eye. Picking it up from the desk, he saw that it had his son's handwriting scrawled across the envelope; it was written to Santa, but the owls knew to redirect them to him. He sighed and opened it, carefully translating the young child's words under his breath.

Astoria Malfoy entered in that moment, carrying a silver tray with two large mugs of hot cocoa. Placing one in front of her husband, she walked around the desk to read over his shoulder.

"I have no way of getting this for him," he huffed out, resting his head against his wife's shoulder behind him. "It kills me to admit that."

She placed a soft kiss on his temple. "Ah, yes. A pet fox."

"But not a common one—an arctic fox," he rebuffed. "If it were a common one I'd have it by now."

Little Scorpius Malfoy was deeply fond of the white peacocks that peppered the manor's grounds and wanted his very own white pet. Out of every animal in the world to choose from, he wanted a white fox.

"Why a fox?" Draco had asked him , finding the choice peculiar.

"Because they are just so _cute_," the eight-year-old had squeaked. "They're like a cat and a dog put together, and I can't choose between those, so I want a fox!"

Finding the logic reasonable enough to not argue with, Draco had agreed until he came home with a young fox kit a few days later, and his son looked so disappointed.

"What's wrong? It's a baby fox, like you asked," he had reasoned.

With the poutiest face he could muster, Scorpius looked to his father. "I love him but…"

'_There is always a "but".'_

"But?"

"I wanted a _white _one, like Gran's peacocks." He gently went to pet the sleepy kit in Draco's arms. "But I think I'll name this one… Rusty!"

Naturally, there were no common albino ones available at all, he made sure of it. This only made the hunt more difficult until he came across the white arctic fox during his frantic search, which led to Scorpius saying it was fine and that he would write to Santa, which Draco now held in his hand.

"You're a resourceful wizard, love. You'll find one, I know you will," Astoria encouraged. "Take a break and have some hot chocolate, it will help calm you down."

He took a sip of the amazing beverage his wife prepared—to this day she refused to tell him her secret recipe.

If he had to resort to shady, and maybe even slightly unethical ways to obtain this animal, it would be worth it just to see his son happy.

**.oOo.**

_23rd of December, 2014_

Strolling the common area of the Ministry of Magic, Draco marched to a specific department in mind with determination. With the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in sight, he pushed through the doors with purpose, bypassing several small desks and toward the department's head of office. Seeing the mess of curled, frazzled hair sitting with a file up to her face, he breezed through her door like he owned the place.

"Granger, I—"

The witch slammed the documents held in her hand hard on the desk, causing a strawberry to roll off the plate beside her. She released an audible sigh.

"I told you already, Malfoy; you cannot have the Quidditch World Cup take place in that part of the rainforest," Hermione Granger said, giving the blond a stern look to reinforce her statement.

Draco put his hands up in mock surrender, being unprepared for her to jump down his throat like that so quickly.

"What? No, I'm not here for that. Though I still think…" He trailed off, waving the conversation off. "Nevermind. I need your help with something else, not work related."

She raised a curious brow. '_Malfoy needs _my _help? And it has nothing to do with work? Shocking.'_

Somehow she didn't believe him, thinking that he was going to try another one of his sneaky antics to bypass her approval on a certain location. With him being the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, Draco was often in her office berating her with reasons why the rainforest location for the Quidditch World Cup was fine. Recently, he'd said that the small tribe of tropical wood nymphs that lived there wouldn't be disturbed because there hadn't been any issues when the Cup had been held there before. A few weeks prior, he argued that the spice sandworms in the Sahara Desert lived underground so no harm could come from them when he proposed that location.

Since the Ministry reform, Hermione had made sure that the locations for the endless enthusiasm of the Quidditch Championship Games were held in areas that would not endanger or harm the wildlife in the area. Any location that was considered had to be fully researched, submitted to her, and researched again. She then sent the compiled information to the corresponding country's ministry and would approve or reject the location once the necessary documents came back.

Sometimes she wondered if the blond deliberately picked areas he knew were off limits just to come argue with her. Though the witch wouldn't put their relationship under the friend category, the trivial work banter between them was sometimes looked forward to in order to lighten a stressful day.

"I'm a little busy right now, if you haven't noticed. What do you need help with?" she asked, loosely crossing her arms.

"It'll still be here after Christmas, so who cares?" Draco deadpanned. Before she could reply, he pulled Scorpius' letter from his pocket. "I need help obtaining an arctic fox. Just point me in the right direction and I'll be on my way."

"Arctic fox? That's an interesting choice of pet." Seeing the childlike writing in the letter he waved around, she couldn't help but smile. "I see the Malfoy taste for the exotic was passed down."

The wizard rolled his eyes, tucking the letter back in his pocket. "Time is of the essence, Granger. Will you help me or not?"

"No."

Draco made sure that his sigh—or was it a scoff?—be well heard. "Why the hell not?"

"You didn't say '_Please'_," she said, taking her seat behind the desk, grabbing the lone strawberry to take a bite before resuming her work.

"Oh, not this again." He ran his hands over his face with frustration. "_Please_ help me, oh brightest witch of our age."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the heavy sarcasm but decided to take it. "Good enough. But one other thing: why come to me for this?"

Draco really didn't think much of it, he just knew that the witch was good at solving dilemmas under a restricting timeline. She also worked with creatures and all that on the regular; a large part of her job was to find creatures to thwart his World Cup locations—in his opinion anyway—so she was the perfect candidate for the job.

He gave a light shrug, yet the smug smile placed on his lips told her that he was being honest, in his own Malfoy way. "A man is known by the company he keeps, or so they say. You've seemed the right choice for the job considering the title and all."

"So they say."

Grabbing some parchment, an envelope, and sealing wax from a drawer, she looked back to the blond in confusion. She flicked her hand at the chair in front of her desk. "Could you sit, please? You standing about in all of your tallness makes me tense."

Refraining from a snarky comment, Draco took a seat as he watched Hermione scribble out a quick note on parchment, seal it, and summon an owl. Handing it off, she resumed to grab another piece of fruit from her plate and flip through some documents.

Perplexed at what was going on, he cleared his throat. "So, since I am apparently waiting on an owl, why did you reject the rainforest location in Brazil? Because I do not buy your nymphs excuse."

Flipping another document, she didn't look up from it when she responded. "You wouldn't like the rest of the reason, either."

"Try me. I am sure it will make much more sense than the heap of nonsense you _did_ give me," Draco challenged.

Hermione paused in her idle work, he could see she had her thinking face on; that blank stare and quirky movement of her mouth like she was whispering with no sound. After what felt like a long minute, she swiveled her chair around and pulled another file from countless others. Laying it out in front of him, she opened it up to the report that was sent from the Brazilian ministry.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

She discreetly watched Draco read through the document. He scowled for a moment, but then became neutral just as quickly. Flicking the document closed, he pushed it back.

"Muggle deforestation," he said out loud.

The witch lightly nodded. "It's been getting pretty bad over there. A lot of common and magical creatures have been forced to flee their habitats… relocate. It's really complicated. Having a tournament there would just be… disastrous."

He waved a hand to dismiss her from continuing. "No need to over explain to me, Granger. I'm not that daft. Although…"

She waited for him to continue, but several seconds passed before her curiosity nudged him to continue. "Although what?"

"What about building everything on the forest's canopy? There could be treehouses for everyone to camp in?"

An odd snort came from the witch that Draco had to stifle his own scintilla of a snicker. "You're joking, right?"

Looking her dead in the eye, the corner of his mouth quivered from containing a smirk. "I'm dead serious."

"Oh please." Hermione rolled her eyes, tapping her finger on the paperwork in front of her, "I'm really trying to work here."

"I am, too," Draco mocked. A huff was his only response at the jab.

Several strange minutes ticked by and the wizard was starting to grow impatient. He tapped a light finger on the corner of her desk, eying the cluttered—but organized—office around him. How she could work in an environment like this still baffled him. An owl swooped in from behind, landing right in front of him. He wouldn't admit that the thing startled him had Hermione asked.

She read the note quickly before standing to grab her cloak. "Let's go."

"Go? You mean, both of us?" Draco was perplexed that the frizzy-haired witch had decided to tag along; her company was not necessary.

"Yes. Come on. I'd hate to have the crying face of little Scorpius knowing he didn't get his precious fox on Christmas day haunting my conscience."

**.oOo.**

Draco paced in front of the Quality Quidditch Supplies store, stopped for a few seconds, and paced again. Glancing in the window to scan the newest model broom on display for the countless time, he paced some more. The snow beneath him now had a path formed from him being unable to stand still. Hermione ditched him as soon as they arrived, and when he attempted to try to follow her, she cleverly slipped by in a crowd of last minute shoppers blocking his way.

Scouring the animal shops he had frequented several times in the past few days to no avail, he decided to remain stationary in order to make it easier for the witch to find him instead. Unless this was some practical joke she was playing to leave him standing in the cold, what better place to be found than in front of a Quidditch storefront.

Checking his watch, it was just past noon. "Shite…" he breathed out, the word lingering in a scintilla puff for a split second before dissipating.

The wizard was going to be late for his lunch date with Astoria and her family if Granger didn't show up soon. Though, he knew she'd understand once the explanation was given. Her parents, on the other hand, would scold him, and he would rather avoid that tongue lashing.

Spotting the giant from a mile away, he let out a relieved sigh. Making way for the man as quickly as he could weave between everyone else bustling about. Hermione was accompanying him, of course, chattering away like there were countless hours in the day yet.

"It's about time; I almost became an ice sculpture," Draco scolded, looking at the tall scruffy man beside him.

Rubeus Hagrid had greyed some since he last saw him—which hadn't been since his school days—but he still had that scintilla twinkle in his dark eyes and the smile on his heavily bearded face.

"Hagrid." He held his hand out to be polite, which was consumed by the man's own hand; the quick shake vibrated through his entire body like it was jelly.

"Long time no see, Malfoy. Doin' well are ye?" he gruffed out, shifting his other arm that had a bundle of blankets in it. "'Ere you needed a new pet. I got jus' the one."

Moving his scarf off the top and lowering the mound so Draco could be able to see, a small white creature was curled in a ball fast asleep. The blond could have kissed the giant if the idea wasn't disturbing; a fleeting thought suggested Hermione instead, but that would end badly.

Hagrid carefully offered the heap of blankets to the wizard, who eagerly accepted them. "I can't believe you found one, and so quickly. If there's any way I can thank you..."

"Aye, it was no trouble at all," Hagrid assured, dismissing the offer. He gave a gentle pat on Hermione's back. "You 'ave good company 'ere, alrigh'."

"I'd like to think so." The blond smirked, glancing at the witch.

"You owe me majorly this time, Malfoy," Hermione said teasingly, a smile plastering her face.

Draco didn't care at that moment, but was cautious to not blurt out he'd do anything in return again. Looking at the tiny kit in his arms, the realization that the creature he held was not a normal arctic fox dawned on him. This little one sported nine tiny tails that were tipped black, making them look like paintbrushes. It had him wonder if his son was going to name it something silly like Tails.

* * *

_Originally Written For:_

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

**Monthly Challenges for All**

**The Houses ****Competition**

**Word Count: **2,430

**Originally Written: **


	9. To Soar with Clipped Wings

**Competition/Challenge Block:  
Written for/Stacked with:** Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Term 12); Monthly Challenges for All (Year 3)  
**House:** Ravenclaw

**Term (Assignment):** Term 13 - Assignment 4  
**Subject (Task):** Study of Magical Objects Task #2 (Write about someone travelling (time and space acceptable)**  
Other Hogwarts Challenges: **IPC: 330. [Character] Astoria Greengrass; 365: [66. Defeat]; Auction 24-1 [Up!]; Build a Breakfast [34. Cinnamon: [Theme] Grief]; Pick a Wick [13. Gingerbread: [Setting] Winter]; Writing Month

Word Count: 2,039

* * *

**Summary: **Draco was a proper young man that was expected to plan his life out down to the minute and follow it. That is until he met Astoria and learned that the unexpected could be full of adventure—but it didn't come without heartache.

**Rated: **T

**Genre: **Family; Hurt/Comfort

**Warning Tag: **References Chronic/Terminal Illness; Mourning; Character Death

* * *

**To Soar with Clipped Wings**

There once was a boy named Draco, who was raised to be nothing but proper. He minded his manners, held the right posture, and molded realistic goals to achieve his carefully planned out life. Nothing came that was unexpected, as it was intended to be, until he met the girl who moved into the house across the way one warm, sunny day.

She called herself Astoria, and was far from sophisticated when she didn't have to be in the public eye. She was bubbly and talkative, outgoing and curious, and never backed away from anything that posed as a challenge or offered adventure. Her energy was contagious and difficult to say no to, even if it led them into trouble. Her stories were creative and her dreams were as big as life itself, and she was never afraid to share with him about anything and everything.

Being young and innocent as they were kept their world endless and filled with wonder. The pair were inseparable day in and day out and left no stone unturned and crevice unexplored. The ponds were swam in and the creeks splashed on, forts were built to hide away from their families garden and tea parties. Life for Draco was never better.

* * *

The time for school came for Draco, and with it his stuffy, proper life and expectations resurfaced. Astoria wasn't around yet, not until the following year, but he would write to her every chance he got in an attempt to hold onto what they had. He ended up having to reacquaint himself with the other children his age that also came from proper families, and he was forced to hide away the adventurous, less predictable side that blossomed from Astoria's influence.

The holidays came filled with stuffy social gatherings, parties, and fancy events that were to boost the family name and morals. It was all about status and who knew who. Draco rarely saw Astoria's and her family at them, and when he did, he was pulled away by others he couldn't say no to.

Summer came, and Draco was swept away to lavish vacations in other countries where he met distant cousins and relatives that were alive and still mattered in some way to his parents. His letters to Astoria became fewer and fewer, souvenirs were no longer sent, and the wild dreams he once harbored faded along with their friendship.

* * *

The years drifted on, the hand waves and brief head nods exchanged between Draco and Astoria ceased after the first month of the school year. The world grew bleak around them each passing year, and with it, certain decisions had to be chosen. Draco did what was expected from him, taking orders and staying in line. He found himself wondering from time to time about what Astoria was doing at times, but knew that whatever it was, she knew how to take care of herself.

Their paths crossed again once the dust settled and the rebuilding had begun around them. Draco didn't hide the fact that life had beaten him down into nothing but the broken and defeated shell he became because of what he thought was right. Astoria, however, was left unchanged. The life she had in her youth still shined brightly in her eyes. A spirit forever untamed or defeated.

"I barely recognize you," Astoria told him one day as they walked through a public garden. "Let me show you how to live again."

Draco looked tired and like he had lost his way, and met her hopeful gaze with doubt and self-loathing. "How can I go on living after what I've done? After the way I shut you out? We aren't kids anymore, life isn't as free as it was then. You will not find your dreams being with me, so look elsewhere."

She knew that he had been barred from leaving the country as part of his post-war sentencing, so her childhood dreams to travel the ends of the Earth with him would have to wait until it was lifted. Five years wasn't very long, after all.

"Well," she said, grabbing his arm to stop him in his tracks. He turned to address her, but knew he would have to learn to accept what she was about to say. "We will find new dreams to fulfill. Together. Starting now."

* * *

They married at her family's manner on a beautiful April afternoon. The garden was prettier, and it didn't harbor undesirable memories. It helped that it was also littered with Astoria's favourite floras, adding to the simple appeal to a quiet, simple vow exchange. When it came time for them to choose where to live, they declined both their families' stuffy estates they grew up in and instead bought the old cottage that slumbered off the creek at the end of the road to call their own. They restored it together, breathing life into it's tired stone bones and putting their own personal touch on it.

With this accomplishment, they found themselves a little happier and their lives a little more fulfilled.

Draco's finance's continued to be regulated, another stipulation attached to his freedom, but it didn't stop them from traveling to every nook and cranny of the United Kingdom. Enlisting in Luna's help had been the best decision made to help pass Draco's remaining lockdown years. Her independent travel agency she ran helped them explore places they never knew existed on the island they grew up on, and even spent time planning out destinations they'd visit the second they were able. Luna kept these travel plans well organized and detailed for them, happy to help them with what she could.

What they didn't anticipate was Astoria's health plummeting seemingly out of nowhere. Learning that Astoria's ability to have children was stolen from her because of the ghosts of her own family came back to haunt her. It was a very old ailment that decided to choose her to slowly drain her life away. The guilt of realizing the unfulfilled life dreams Astoria built started to drown Draco with regrets of his own past, knowing he was the one that prevented her from traveling the way she patiently yearned for all this time. The travel ban was so close to being lifted it was infuriating, but they would endure.

* * *

Draco's travel ban was lifted, and the couple immediately visited the neighboring islands around them in order to stay relatively local to Astoria's healer. Her health was stable, but he knew it was still depleting, and so he took her where he could when she was well enough to endure the trip.

The farthest they were able to get to was Iceland during winter, and he knew it would be the last place they would ever be able to make it too based on how poorly she handled the weather, travel sickness aside.

"Draco," Astoria half-whispered while they watched the Aurora Borealis dance across the Iceland skies on a cold winter night. "Promise me you won't stop living when I am gone."

"Shh," Draco shushed, not wanting to think about that. "Please, not now."

"If not now then when?" She asked, and he only squeezed her hand in protest. "I want you to think of me when you see something as spectacular as these ribbons of light now. To remember that I'll be there with you always."

"'Stori—"

"Promise me."

Draco swallowed the lump in his throat, fighting back the tears as he held her frail hand in his. "I promise."

* * *

Draco made sure Astoria's funeral was elegant, her casket was made of faux ivory and covers in her favourite flowers. He trudged through the eulogy and everyone's condolences. There was nothing but numbness filling him now, there was nothing else to live for anymore.

The families soon went on their way, and the casket was moved to the Malfoy family crypt where Draco found himself staying overnight in with her weeping until he was too exhausted to do so anymore. That was how Luna found him the following morning, and she helped take him back to the cottage.

After days of being cooped up in his home stewing in the darkness and tending to her flowers she peppered throughout the home, Luna showed up and sat down with him in the silence after preparing them tea. She didn't speak to him, instead busying herself with her work and offering him some silent company.

"Astoria left this for me to give you when the time was right," Luna said, breaking through the heavy quiet. "I think that time is now."

Draco let out a groan when she pulled out a burgundy binder he was all too familiar with from his childhood and offered it out to him. He took it with hesitance, knowing that Astoria used it to catalog a lot of the things they did together in it before. The front cover had a photo from their wedding on it. Their foreheads were pressed together, both smiling at each other while looking into one another's eyes. A memory he'd never forget.

Thumbing through the first few pages, Draco saw they held pressed flowers with labels and blocks of text written beside them. They were her favourites, he noticed. The same ones that peppered their wedding day and again at her funeral. He quickly moved on, seeing that his letters he'd sent her while he was on vacation taped in, followed by a nick nack he'd sent from wherever it was. The postcards followed after, and he remembered picking out the ones that looked the best to present to her, telling her that he couldn't wait to take her to the landmark someday and wishing that she could be there with him to make the trips less dull. It pained Draco to realize that he did a lot of what Astoria wanted to do in his youth, and he wished he appreciated it more now than he had as a child.

The pages after were hand drawings of the cottage overrun in vegetation, the very same cottage they ended up buying together and made livable again. The writing was child-like, but still neat and clean, and Draco saw that Astoria wrote that it was her dream home, the way it was hidden in vegetation made it look like an enchanted place. Swatches of fabric and paint cards littered the pages after with notes of window trimming colors and curtains that would look best in each room. Even the carpets, rugs, and throw pillows were carefully put together to compliment each other, and Draco stopped to look around the home and see how it all came together. Her vision was made true after all.

Photos after that showed the newly restored cottage, and various pictures of Draco and Astoria were organized into three separate collages. One page with just him, one with just her, and the couple together took up two pages.

After that he stalled, noticing that what came next were their trips they made combing the United Kingdom. It had pamphlets, photographs, nick nacks, and bullet notes highlighting the best parts of each place. The last page was Iceland, and Draco felt tears well in his eyes. He had only made it to the halfway point of the large book binder, and it sent a pang of hurt through him knowing the unfilled pages were meant for their trips abroad.

When he went to close it, a slip of paper showed itself, and Draco turned the page to see a handwritten note sitting alone with her wedding ring attached at the bottom.

_Thank you for filling my life with adventure and showing me my dreams. Now it is time for you to live through yours._

The pages after the note were prepped with destinations they had planned to see together. Draco could barely breathe and had to close it in order to find his breath again. Luna's hand touched his then, pulling Draco back to the bleak present he lived in.

Luna pulled out a portkey travel permit and an old teacup Draco remembered sending her as a souvenir. "She wanted you to keep living, so let us keep making memories and fulfilling her wish to you now."

* * *

_Originally Written For:_

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)**

**Monthly Challenges for All**

**Word Count: **2,039

**Originally Written: **September 2020


End file.
